


moments that the words don't reach

by consumptive_sphinx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Risingverse - Telemachus
Genre: (not that he cares), Gen, Hogwarts AU, M/M, get down from the roof Caradhil, have you seen those roofs, that is not safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6163813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consumptive_sphinx/pseuds/consumptive_sphinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caradhil is done trying to tiptoe around Aglarcu's name — so it's a good thing that Legolas doesn't try. </p><p>(Most of the time, Caradhil cares for Legolas. It's Legolas's turn.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	moments that the words don't reach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [telemachus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/telemachus/gifts).



Somehow, Legolas found him. 

Honestly, Caradhil isn't surprised. Of course Legolas would find a way to ask more of him, even now — he knows that isn't fair but he still does think it.

"I'm not going to talk about him." Their whole house has been trying to coax a conversation out of him since the day of the funeral, and Caradhil's done tiptoeing around Aglarcu's name. 

"Okay." Legolas doesn't sound disappointed, just accepting. 

It's May, so it isn't freezing outside, but it is still cold. His face and fingers feel pleasantly numb. Caradhil is distantly aware that he's been out here all day and his housemates are probably worried about him, but he can't quite find it in him to go down to the Great Hall and face them. He already knows what every Hufflepuff from fifth year up looks like when they're concerned and trying to hide it, and he doesn't need to see it again. 

"I might stay with you over the summer, like I did for Christmas." Legolas isn't looking at him. "My brothers were worse than usual last year, and I'll bet they'll be even worse than that this year."

Thirthurun and Thorodwar Lasgalen, Legolas's older brothers, joined the Death Eaters a year and a half ago. Caradhil isn't sure what Thranduil thinks of that, but it does make sense that Legolas wouldn't want to go home. 

"I'm going to America," he says. "Not a good idea to be muggleborn in Britain now that Dumbledore's gone." Legolas is the first person he's told; saying it out loud feels more final, somehow. Caradhil has the plane ticket to Boston tucked into the binding of his potions textbook, between the thirty-sixth and thirty-seventh pages. 

Aglarcu was from Boston. Caradhil doesn't say it, but he thinks it. He isn't ready to face this head-on — but he won't run away from it either. 

Legolas nods thoughtfully. "That's a good idea. I'd do it too if I weren't underage." There's a considering pause. "I'll ask Tauriel at breakfast tomorrow."

There's another long silence, not quite comfortable but not quite awkward either. The last gleams of sunlight are disappearing now, but Caradhil feels no particular need to go inside, or even to get off of the roof and down again to the balcony. He isn't sure, but he thinks he might be crying. 

"I —" Legolas starts to speak, then stops again. "Carrie, do you want me to —"

Caradhil glances over to see Legolas holding a comb. "Yes, please." He tries to stop his voice from shaking, but he's definitely crying now. 

It's a Hufflepuff thing: they all comb and braid one another's hair. Nobody's certain of when it started, but it's a tradition they all enjoy. Caradhil has been doing his own hair for the last few weeks, because he doesn't want to face the rest of his House and he doubly doesn't wan to face the almost painful intimacy that comes with combing, but he does miss it. 

Legolas shifts so he's sitting behind Caradhil, runs his fingers through his hair to undo the braid. "You've done this for me often enough," he murmurs, so softly that Caradhil can barely hear. 

Legolas's fingers feel like Aglarcu's always did; they have the same calluses, use the same amount of pressure. Caradhil leans back, presses into the contact. 

Just for a moment, he can't feel the cold.


End file.
